


Fireside Chats

by Magizinu



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Depictions of Gutting an Animal, Friendship, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slice of Life, The Iron Bull is a Nerd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25793476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magizinu/pseuds/Magizinu
Summary: Soon after Yelran Lavellan is declared the Herald of Andraste, him and the his companions find themselves in the Hinterlands hunting rams for the refugees.An odd task, but it gives Yelran a chance to get to know one of his companions a little better.
Relationships: Iron Bull/Male Lavellan, Iron Bull/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Fireside Chats

The brush crowded around him as Yelran squatted, eyes fixed on the large ram about five meters away. The animal was formidable; it’s thick coat shined under the sun and massive horns curled from its head, ridged and deadly-sharp. But Yelran knew that under all that fur was a lot of good meat. 

The refugees holed up at the crossroads were running out of supplies, and their hunter was not willing to venture into mage and Templar infested land to go hunting. It was simply too dangerous for one man. But the people there needed food, and needed it quickly, and Yelran couldn’t bear to think of the victims of the war going to bed hungry. He knew all too well what it was like, when his clan was pushed north into freezing hills where game was scarce. 

He quietly drew his bow, nicked an arrow, and aimed for the ram’s shoulder. With luck, it would pierce the thick coat and strike its heart, killing it instantly. 

Closing one eye, he let the arrow fly. It zipped through the brush and struck the ram’s upper shoulder, making the animal keen and bolt away. So, a wild goose chase it was. 

“Fennedis! Come on, we have to catch it!” He shouted to the shadows crouched some way behind him. His companions had been waiting behind, but kept to their feet at the call. 

Bull, Cassandra, and Varric emerged from the shadows, drawing their weapons. The four stumbled over rocks and broken trees in a blind rush after the ram. It was wounded, but still strong, and found its way halfway up a hill by the time they saw it again. Yelran fires another arrow, as did Varric, which both hit home, killing the animal instantly. 

Yelran huffed, regaining his breath. He hated having to chase after wounded animals; why hadn’t he killed it with the first shot? It would have saved it a lot of fear and suffering. He promised to himself that he would do better next time. 

They picked their way up the slope, which was littered with tall grasses and broken stone that jutted out between the brush. Small lizards and other critters darted from their presence to the safety under these rocks, and fat bees lazily collected the last of the nectar from the late summer flowers. 

They reached the ram, and Yelran dragged it closer to the hillside, where it wouldn’t roll off. Then he somewhat sheepishly crouched next to it, closing his eyes. He always gave a prayer of thanks to his gods after a hunt, but it was always awkward in front of the others. It just felt wrong not to honor the life it had given. Thankfully they had the sense not to say anything. 

He opened his eyes after a muttered prayer and, drawing out his hunting knife, got to work gutting and skinning the animal. Bull crouched net to him and tried to help by holding the animal’s horns steady. Yelran flashed a smile at him. They had not been on many excursions yet, but Yelran found himself quite enjoying the company of the Quanari. He was a character, but smart and picked up on things the others missed, and always seemed to have something to say. Talking to him helped Yelran forget some of the weight that came with being the ‘Herald of Andraste’. 

“This’ll do those folks at the crossroads good.” He said. Yelran hummed. 

“Yeah. I’m glad we did this when we did, I’d hate them to go hungry.” He mused as he finished skinning the ram, moving to cut away the meat. Cassandra laid out a piece of canvas to put it on, and Varric watched quietly from a distance, wiping blood off his crossbow bolts. Bull watched Yelran as he worked, and Yelran warmed under his gaze. 

“You’re pretty good with your hands, boss.” He rumbled. Yelran huffed a laugh, hoping he didn’t see the slight blush that creeped up his ears. 

“Yes, well, you learn to be when you live in a traveling clan that hunts deer and ram half the time. But I can do more than skin an animal with these hands.” He grinned up at Bull, who raised an eyebrow, amused. He heard Cassandra clear her throat. 

“Let’s wrap this up and get it back to the crossroads. Those people need this meat.” They wrapped up the canvas over the meat, and Bull hacked off the animal’s sharp horns, then started on the journey back North. 

“So, Varric, I take it game hunting isn’t really your thing?” Yelran asked, trotting up next to the dwarf. Varric chuckled. 

“No, not really. I’m not really scared of blood and such, but with our enemies it’s different. It’s not as… messy.” 

“Yeah, it took me a while to warm up to it, too. It’s not something I look forward to, anyhow.” 

“But you were a hunter, right? That’s what you Dalish call it?” 

“Yeah, I was. Doesn’t mean I enjoy pulling wet intestines out of animal carcasses.” He looked at Varric and grinned at his look of distaste. 

“Sorry. Yeah, I was a hunter, but I usually brought the whole animal back to our camp, so we could use as much of it as we could.”

“We don’t have time for that now, I’m afraid. These people need food as soon as possible.” Cassandra cut in. 

“I don’t think he’s arguing with that, seeker.” Varric said, shooting Yelran a wink, who rolled his eyes, looking at Bull with a look at these two idiots face. He found the man already looking at him. The oxman simply smirked good-naturedly. 

* * *

They arrive at the crossroads as the sun begins to touch the tree-line, illuminating the clouds above with watery golden light. Long shadows cover the ground as people mill about, some with news and some with supplies. 

The hunter is delightfully surprised by their offering, and sets to cooking the meat straight away. “I didn’t think much of the inquisition at first, but you’re the only ones who want to help us.” He says as he unwraps the meat, making Yelran’s heart expand. Cassandra gives him a nod of approval. 

They decide to stay the night at the crossroads, cheered by the friendly faces and warm fires that erupt around the valley. Tents are set up near the waterfall that cascades down the mountainside, and Varric, Bull, and Yelran decide to spend time in the makeshift tavern. 

The round building is warm and inviting, and strewn with mismatched tables and chairs. People sit in clusters, drinking out of waterskines and laughing quietly. It’s a marked change in mood from the somewhat hopeless attitude that marked their last visit. 

“You’ve given these people hope.” Bull says, finding a chair near a makeshift fireplace. Yelran finds a smaller one nearby and pulls it up to the inviting heat of the flames. The hinterlands got quite cold during the night, even in autumn. Varric finds his way over to a table playing a wicked grace, or a version of it, at least. They quickly deal him in. 

“I’ve given them meat. It won’t last forever.” 

“You’ve shown them that someone cares. That’s enough to give them hope.” 

He pulls out his waterskine and takes a deep drink. Yelran watches his throat bob up and down as he swallows. Satisfied, he offers it to the elf, who, after a moment of consideration, takes it from his hands. He is aware of Bull’s gaze on him as he takes a drink. He winces as burning liquid fills his mouth. But he takes a few long sips, then hands it back to its owner. 

“I can’t believe you carry that around like it’s water.” He says, voice slightly raspy. Bull erupts in loud laughter. 

“Hey, Boss, for me this is water.” Yelran shakes his head, then reaches around in his belt pouch, pulling out a piece of ram horn and a small knife. The carving slightly resembles some sort of animal. 

He works away at the object in silence for awhile, lulled into contentment by the fire and quiet voices that fill the tavern. Bull sips his canteen occasionally, eyes wandering from Yelran to the fire to the other patrons of the tavern, then back to Yelran. 

“It it a deer?” He asks after a while, as the carving starts to take form. 

“Sort of. It’s a halla. They’re sacred to the Dalish.” 

“How big are they?” Bull asks, making Yelran smile at his interest. 

“Not too big, about the size of an August ram. Have you never seen one?”

“No, can’t say I have. Why are they sacred to your people?” 

“Well, legend has it that they once bore my people into battle. We have a special bond with them, because the first halla, Ghilan'nain, was one of the People. She fought by our side before the shems- before the humans came. They help us move our aravels, and we help them by keeping them safe.” He looked down at the carving in his hand. “They’re beautiful animals. My closest sister halla I called Viradan.” He stopped, realizing he was going on a tangent. But Bull seemed fully engrossed. 

“What about you? Do your people hold a kind of animal sacred?” 

Bull pondered the question. “Well, we have these huge horses we use in battle and to carry shit around, but they’re not sacred or anything. Dragons are pretty important to us, though we don’t live with them. I just love how powerful they are. Imagine staring down a fully grown high dragon, it’s teeth bared and smoke coming out of its nostrils. Like, damn. That’s power.” He stared wistfully up at the ceiling. 

* * *

They talked well into the night, swapping stories about their homelands, until Yelran’s eyelids grew heavy and his body warm and sleepy. He bid Bull goodnight and headed off to his tent, a happy, buzzing feeling in his chest. The next day he started a new carving project of an animal he had only very recently found meaning in. 


End file.
